Chapter 38: Feipeng
Two days later, Fang Jian officially began her duties in Qinzhou. She hung out the Censor’s plaque, accepting petitions from all the people of the prefecture. But after three days, she hadn't received a single case. The area outside the temporary government office was completely deserted.
Fang Jian had anticipated this, so she wasn't particularly anxious. She spent her days wandering around Qinzhou City with Xiuzhu, looking for all the world like an enthusiastic tourist.
A few days later, Chen Qingshang's Feipeng Poetry Society hosted a poetry gathering exclusively for women and sent an invitation to Fang Jian. Fang Jian toyed with the invitation, looking at the words “Feipeng” and a small, hand-drawn flower on it, and sighed, “Feipeng…”
Xiuzhu chimed in, “Isn’t fleabane a common sight everywhere? Why choose such a name?”
“Indeed,” Fang Jian said. “A small flower seen everywhere in the countryside, rootless and adrift, vanishing with the wind. Don’t you think it’s very much like these ladies who are forced to live in the old ways?”
“Ah?” Xiuzhu didn’t understand. She thought “rootless and adrift” applied to the poor who had no fixed abode and wandered for thousands of miles. Could the ladies of great families, who were dressed in silks, fed delicacies, and treated like precious jewels, also be like fleabane?
Fang Jian explained, “At home, she obeys her father; when married, she obeys her husband; when her husband dies, she obeys her son. A lady’s entire life is spent moving between other people’s homes. Where is her own home? What matters can she decide for herself? Where can she ever be said to have put down roots?”
Hearing this, Xiuzhu felt a pang of bitterness. In her youth, she had been a true drifter, and she knew the taste of having nowhere to land.
Fang Jian continued, “But fleabane is also the most resilient of plants. Even when tossed by the wind, as long as it lands on the ground, with just a little water and a little light, it can survive and grow into the hardiest of forms. What a wonderful metaphor. I wonder who named this poetry society. I’d really like to meet them.”
When the day arrived, Fang Jian dressed in a simple ruqun and went to the Chen family’s villa for the banquet. The villa was located in the city’s outskirts, nestled by a mountain and water, with high, upturned eaves and ornate, painted pavilions. Fang Jian stood outside, looking at the magnificent courtyard. Unlike the restrained elegance of the Gao family’s old residence, the Chen family had piled their wealth into every aspect, making no effort to conceal it.
After a short wait, Chen Qingshang, as the host, came out to welcome her.
“I am Chen Qingshang, eldest daughter of the Chen family. I respectfully welcome you, Lord Censor.” Chen Qingshang stopped a few steps before her and bowed respectfully.
“Oh, Second Lady Chen. So it was you who sent the invitation?” Fang Jian sized up the Second Lady, who was about twenty-five or twenty-six and wore her hair in a married woman’s style. She recalled the information she had gathered earlier: this Second Lady had been married long ago, but her husband had died young, so she had returned to the Chen family and sometimes handled some of their affairs.
“It was indeed I. Thank you for gracing us with your presence, my lord. This way, please.”
Chen Qingshang led Fang Jian into the villa, conversing with her in a light and easy manner. The flattery and admiration in her words were perfectly measured, making one feel pleased without being annoyed, and one would unconsciously relax and be willing to say a few more words to her. In her heart, Fang Jian’s estimation of her rose a little higher.
“Everyone in Qinzhou loves to learn, and the ladies often form poetry societies to write poems and essays and exchange ideas. The two largest are Feipeng, which I manage, and Qiulan, managed by the Sixth Lady of the Luo family. We have also invited our sisters from Qiulan today. We hope you will not be stingy with your guidance, my lord,” Chen Qingshang explained as they walked.
It was not yet time for the banquet to begin. Chen Qingshang led Fang Jian into the flower hall, where several ladies were already waiting. When they saw her enter, they came to greet her. Chen Qingshang then made the introductions: “This is Sixth Lady Luo of the Qiulan Poetry Society, Fourth Lady Ye, Seventh Lady Chen… all are renowned for their poetry. And these ladies here are the mainstays of our Feipeng, Third Lady Song, Second Lady Ying…”
Third Lady Song was Song Wan. Fang Jian had met her once in Zhuo County. She gave Song Wan an extra glance before impassively shifting her gaze away.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, the banquet began. Chen Qingshang invited Fang Jian to sit in the seat of the guest of honor and then announced the start of the feast. As it was an elegant gathering of a poetry society, the natural way to connect with friends was through poetry. After a few cups of wine, the crowd nominated Fang Jian to be the arbiter for a drinking game.
Fang Jian was not exceptionally talented in poetry, but she had passed the imperial examinations and had been meticulously taught by Gao Yunqu, so she had some skill. After listening for a few rounds, she had a general sense of things. Qinzhou truly had a flourishing literary culture. The ladies came from scholarly families and each had her own style of composing poetry. The overall level was quite good, but the style tended to be delicate and subtle, and the content mostly revolved around romantic troubles and seasonal melancholy. It was beautiful, to be sure, but it felt like something was missing.
Fang Jian felt a sense of pity but did not let it show on her face. She picked a few of the better poems and offered some words of praise and encouragement. Fang Jian cleared her throat and said, “I have a question I would like to ask all you ladies.”
Chen Qingshang quickly said, “We would not dare presume to instruct you, my lord. Please speak freely.”
“May I ask why all of you study?” Fang Jian glanced around and immediately saw several young ladies furrow their brows, their faces a picture of confusion. She smiled and called on one of the younger ones.
The young lady stood up, bewildered, and bowed. “Studying is just studying. People are born to study, to become literate, and to understand principles. Why does it need a reason?”
Fang Jian found her adorable and chuckled lightly. She then called on an older lady, who was about twenty and wore her hair in a married woman’s style, indicating she was already wed.
She chose her words carefully, “After studying, one knows how to handle many things. Whether it is managing the household, assisting one’s husband, or teaching one’s children, everything becomes manageable.”
“Studying allows you to see things you normally wouldn’t see.”
“I simply enjoy reading. Reading brings me joy.”
…
The reasons from the ladies, young and old, were varied and strange. Fang Jian smiled and nodded at each one, then turned to the few beside her who had remained silent. “What is your view, Lady Luo?”
Luo Suwei was of a similar age to Chen Qingshang, and her face possessed a dignity and tranquility that the younger, more vivacious ladies lacked. She had been lost in thought ever since Fang Jian posed the question. Now that she was asked, she showed no sign of panic, but steadily bowed and said, “I think, perhaps, it is because we have studied that we are able to sit in the same hall as you.”
“Oh? So you study to be my equal?” Fang Jian narrowed her eyes, her interest piqued.
“I would not dare. I feel it is to earn the right to speak in the hall, no matter which hall it is. The sovereign resides in the court and worries for the realm; I reside in the home and worry for my family. One should do what is appropriate for one’s station. Studying and understanding principles allows one to do what one ought to do.”
“Then what, Lady Luo, do you feel is your station now, and what ought you to be doing?” Fang Jian asked again.
“A wife, a mother, a clan matron,” Luo Suwei replied, lowering her head respectfully.
“I see.” Fang Jian nodded. She had heard her poetry earlier; a few lines were enough to reveal her profound learning and diligent effort. Yet, the sentiment within was that of a resentful wife in her boudoir, filled with a sense of powerlessness. It was quite a contradiction.
Fang Jian looked at the eager Song Wan. “And what does Third Lady Song have to say?”
“In my opinion, by studying, one learns how vast the world is. One’s vision isn’t confined by a square patch of sky, becoming ignorantly arrogant like the frog in the well.” Song Wan glanced provocatively at Luo Suwei, her meaning clear.
Luo Suwei was not angered. She smiled faintly, as if looking at a misbehaving child, and replied, “And what good does seeing it do? No matter how much you see, you can’t jump out of that well. Why add to your troubles and live a life of pain?”
“That’s still better than living like a summer insect or a mayfly!” Song Wan retorted angrily.
“My lord, what is your view? If one cannot leave, should one see or not?” Luo Suwei turned to Fang Jian and asked.
Fang Jian asked in return, “You’ve already decided you cannot leave. So what difference does it make whether you see or not? Just do as you think best.”
Luo Suwei fell silent, and her silence lasted until the gathering ended.
After the banquet, having seen off Fang Jian and the other guests, Chen Qingshang and Song Wan shared a carriage home. In the carriage, Chen Qingshang dropped her ladylike demeanor and collapsed onto the seat. She looked at Song Wan beside her. “A'wan, you were too hasty. With so many people around, why argue with the Sixth Lady?”
Song Wan lowered her head in apology. “I just couldn’t hold back for a moment. I was wrong, Sister A'shang.”
“It’s not the first time the Sixth Lady has been like this. She’s just given up hope and accepted her fate. It’s not her fault, really.” Chen Qingshang closed her eyes to rest. They had once been friends with Luo Suwei, and they had watched, day by day, as she retreated step by step, wrapping herself in the shell of a virtuous wife and good mother. If she didn’t want to come out herself, no amount of chipping away from the outside would break it. “The dawn is coming. Just be patient a little longer.”
“You’re right, sister. I understand.”
“How are things with your family?” Chen Qingshang changed the subject.
“That Lord Chi is truly capable. She’s turned Zhuo County upside down. I think the fire will reach our family soon,” Song Wan said with a hint of schadenfreude, as if talking about someone else’s family. “My father, afraid we’d be implicated, had us return to the main residence in Qinzhou overnight, leaving only himself at the old residence to deal with Lord Chi.”
“Everything is going according to plan. It’s time for a fire to be lit in Qinzhou as well. Go and prepare. Remember to be cautious and not act rashly.”
“Yes.”
Author's Notes
Feipeng is probably a plant similar to a dandelion. I haven't figured out the specific difference, I can't understand the Baidu Baike entry. Anyway, in all sorts of classical poetry, it's an image of being rootless and adrift.
Get instant access to all chapters now.
Post a Comment